


A Good Analyst Goes To War

by Tammany



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Civil Service, Deep Government, Gen, M/M, Post-Brexit, Whistle blower, post-Trump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 04:51:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10937373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tammany/pseuds/Tammany
Summary: Here in the States we're enjoying a period of leaks from our civil servants, who have decided that perhaps the people do have a "need to know" what their government actually does some of the time, regardless of what high powers are unhappy with the revelation. I found myself thinking of Mycroft....I like to believe he's a hero, if the kind who chooses to go unsung.





	A Good Analyst Goes To War

Mycroft Holmes looked at the thumb drive he’d placed before him on his desk. His face was stern. His eyes stormy, their silver-blue dark. His mouth turned down. His hands were steepled.

The office door swung open, and Anthea strode in. Dear Anthea. Steady Anthea. Anthea, who could be trusted. She cocked her head.

“You left me a note, sir.” It wasn’t a question, though it certainly implied a question. Mycroft did not leave notes. Especially not anonymous notes that were printed, not handwritten.

He met her eyes, holding her gaze. “I might have,” he said, as unwavering in his delivery as she was.

She considered. “I see.” He knew she did. He could see her move from her normal state of yellow alert to full-out flaming red. “You can call on me, sir.”

“I know. You’re loyal.”

He did not detail where that loyalty lay, though. Not that he had to. They shared a similar understanding of integrity to the nation, the Queen, and the civil service, in roughly that order. Elected officials and bollocking experts of all stripes did not count.

She barely acknowledged his comment, instead saying, “What do you need done, sir?”

He said, quietly, “Certain mistakes need to be made. Certain information needs to go astray. Ideally to people of an, er…journalistic nature. Or perhaps to some of the independent data-gatherers. Things spread so fast when picked up online.”

Her brows rose, but she didn’t question him. “Do we wish for it to be attributable, sir?”

“Only if you can work out someone both plausible and expendable a layer or two further down the food chain. You deal with the underlings more than I. Surely there’s someone who’s itching for a change in career, but still faithful at heart? Someone who might, perhaps, make a grand gesture on the way out?”

She pondered, arms crossed, hipshot. After a moment she nodded. “Yes. I think—“

“No.” He cut her off. “Don’t say. Don’t even think it. Cover your own trail, and do what you can to provide yourself with plausible deniability.” He took out a handkerchief and buffed off the thumb drive. “I have not touched this. I am hoping it has no trace of me on it. I advise you to take similar precautions.”

She drew in her breath. “That dangerous?”

“Governments will fall. Among them—ours.”

She raised her head. “To rise again, purified, I hope.”

“As cleansed as one can hope for in this weary world.”

“And you?”

He sighed. “I have not decided. But—after the phoenix rises again…” He wiped his face with weary hands, stroking away lines of stress and worry. “I have been at this a long time. It may be time for younger heads.” He glanced up at her. “If you decide you’d like my desk, I’d as soon say now that I’d prefer to give it to you peacefully and cooperatively, rather than find myself pushed out.”

She didn’t insult him by suggesting she had no such interest. Instead she said, “I’ll keep it in mind. Do you mind if I borrow your handkerchief, sir?”

“Get a tissue from the lav. No risk of DNA traces,” he said, not ungraciously. Just worried to make sure they were careful.

She nodded, went into the little hidden apartment behind one of the office panels, then returned, picking up the thumb drive gingerly. “Should I check to see what’s on it?”

He shook his head. “I think not. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but not in this configuration, or put together in this way. You’ll find it easier to seem surprised if you honestly don’t know what’s coming.”

She nodded, then left, silently.

He let out a slow breath. It was done. Some would call what he had set in motion treason. Some would call it the most extreme form of loyalty. All he knew was that if England was to endure, it must be England—not the name and the bunting, without the core ideals.

He slipped his phone from his pocket, and dialed a number he kept in his memory…and erased from the phone carefully after every use. In a moment he heard the line open.

“Hullo? That you, Mike?”

He nodded, in spite of not being visible to his contact. He began to smile at the sound of the familiar voice.

“Yes. I’ve…decided to take the rest of the day off from being the British Government. Maybe longer than that. How would you like to go out to lunch with mere Mycroft Holmes today? At a pub? Or perhaps a chip shop.”

“Feeling plebian, today?”

Mycroft, looking out over the silvery city below, smiled. “Never. I shall be of the elite till I die. But perhaps like a servant of the people. Like Henry the Fifth walking among his soldiers. I feel the need for the common man.”

“Aye, well. That’s me, ennit?” Lestrade said, chuckling.

“Never,” Mycroft said again. “You are—exceptional. So…the Feathers? In a half-hour?”

“Feathers it is,” Lestrade said.

When they’d hung up, Mycroft rose, found his umbrella, and left the office.

He had won the war, he thought—and not a single shot fired. All said and done, he thought he deserved a pint, and an evening with his beloved. Let the soldiers enjoy their medals. He’d settle for Lestrade, a nut brown ale, and England, secure, as he had loved her his entire life.

 

Any of you who wish to keep track of things I am writing beyond here may wish to check at https://www.facebook.com/pegfiction/, or at my tumblr page, http://tammanyt.tumblr.com/.


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